


a colourful world

by Quillium



Series: natsume week 2k19 [1]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Gen, Tumblr: Natsume Week 2019, basically all Natsume's friends and fam are included, but their parts are all fairly small
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: “You always say you’re fine,” Tanuma grumbles. He pulls off his scarf and wraps it around Natsume’s neck, “Here, at least take this.”Natsume begins to unravel it, “That’s really unnecessary, you don’t need to—“ORMoments between Natsume and the family he's found.





	a colourful world

**red.**

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Touko hates the way Takashi’s back flattens when she asks that, the way his shoulders tense. “To—to school, Touko-san.”

“Your face is all red,” Touko puts a hand to Takashi’s cheeks and tries to pretend she doesn’t notice the way Takashi is so consciously forcing himself to be still. She presses her forehead against Takashi’s and clicks her tongue, “And you have a fever too. Off to bed.”

Takashi shakes his head, “I’m perfectly fine, Touko-san—“

“You look ready to fall over at the slightest wind,” Touko puts her hands on her hips, “Up to your bedroom. Change into your pyjamas and I’ll bring some soup and medicine, alright?”

“But—“

“No buts,” Touko waves her hands, “Away you go.”

Her boy stares at his feet and mumbles _thank you_ as though this were something to thank her for, this simple little love.

Touko’s chest aches and she distracts herself by thinking about what she wants to put in the soup. Green onions, maybe she’ll make pea soup—

Takashi is still awake when she’s finished, sitting up straight and staring out the window.

“You should be asleep,” she chides him, setting down the bowl and pressing a cool towel against his forehead.

“I know, sorry,” Takashi says, as though he’s offended her in some way, as though she isn’t just worried about him.

She shakes her head at him, “You feel up for some soup?”

He brightens a bit, “Thank you, Touko-san.”

“None of that,” she says.

Takashi hesitates a bit before he says, “You shouldn’t be here. I could infect you.”

Touko huffs, “I’ve got a pretty good immune system and it’s my job to be here with you right now.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

“…Oh,” Takashi adopts that slightly surprised, delighted little smile that he always gets when Touko does these kinds of things, when she looks out for him like anyone would. Or at least _should_. “Thank you.”

“Being loved isn’t something to thank me for,” Touko says.

“I’m still thankful,” Takashi says, softly, “You know that, right?”

She presses a hand against his cheeks, still red and feverish, “I know, Takashi-kun. Why don’t you rest a bit? I’ll be right here, by your side.”

He leans back and closes his eyes, “Ok.”

And she stays there, by his side, just as promised.

* * *

**orange**.

“Oi, Natsume, if you’re just going to leave that jar of orange jelly on this old stone step, why don’t you let someone actually eat it?” Nyanko eyes the jar and licks his lips, “Like, per say, _me_.”

“It’s not for you,” Natsume grumbles, “It’s for the local god who lives here.”

“Pft, you haven’t even met them. You don’t even know if they exist! I think, instead of gambling like this, it’d be best if you just gave it to _me_ , someone who is very powerful and deserves—“

Natsume shakes his head and picks up Nyanko, “If you promise to behave, I might pick up some yakitori on the way home.”

“Well—I suppose I _can_ compromise. But only because I’m so great and benevolent. You should thank me, you know, for forgiving you like this.”

Natsume snorts, “You’re just a greedy pig.”

“Am not!”

They leave behind the jar of orange jelly, and the next day, it’s left on the steps, empty and clean.

(“Fine,” Nyanko grumbles, “At least they washed the jar.”

“I hope they enjoyed it,” Natsume says, and catches sight of an orange robe fluttering in the forest.)

* * *

**yellow**.

“I don’t want to know,” Natsume says as soon as he smells the eggs burning. “I’m not responsible for this. I’m not going to get involved. I—“

“Oi, Satoru!” Kitamoto yells, “You going to feed that to Natsume’s fat cat? Who’s going to eat burnt eggs?”

“Shut up, Atsushi!” Nishimura yells back, “I can do this!”

“This is your _third try_! Give it up!”

Natsume buries his face in his hands, “We are not helping—“

“I’d like to see you do better!” Nishimura grumbles.

Natsume stands up and sighs, “I’ll help.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay—“

“I know how to make scrambled eggs,” Natsume assures Nishimura, “So I’ll help out a bit. Did you remember to add salt to the eggs when you stirred them?”

“Um…yes?”

“Great. Where did you put the oil?”

“In the cupboard,” Nishimura pulls it out, “You really know what you’re doing?”

Natsume shrugs, “I learned to cook when I was younger. It’s not really a big deal.”

“Well, _I_ think it’s very impressive,” Nishimura nudges Natsume and grins, “Good thing we invited you to our sleepover, hm?”

“Is that the only reason?” Natsume teases.

“No! No, of course not, we love you for many reasons—“ Nishimura pauses when he catches sight of Natsume laughing, “Oh, haha, very funny.”

“I thought so,” Natsume agrees cheerfully.

“Jerk,” Nishimura bumps Natsume’s shoulder, “Atsushi, come learn how to cook with me.”

“I’m not as hopeless as you,” Kitamoto snickers.

“But this is _Natsume_ , he knows what he’s doing.”

“You’ve never tasted my cooking,” Natsume points out as he sets the stove temperature to high, “Now, I like to set the heat to high but if you’re a beginner, you can start with medium and work your way up with practice—“

“A master of the culinary arts,” Nishimura says, “That’s what you are.”

“I—it’s just eggs!”

“You’re amazing, Natsume!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Aw, look, Atsushi, his ears are red!”

“No—no they aren’t!”

“He’s so cute!”

His friends are hopeless and don’t know how to cook eggs, but Natsume loves them all the same.

* * *

 **green**.

He’s lying in an endless field of grass, bright green as far as the eye can see, Taki picking through the bits of colour dotting the fields.

“Did you ever learn how to make flower crowns as a kid, Natsume?” Taki asks lightly, fingers curling in and out in deft motions as she ties the flower stems together.

Natsume turns his head to her a bit, sneezing when his nose brushes against dandelion fluff. “No,” he says, “I mostly just—tried not to attract attention.”

Taki hums a bit and cards her fingers through his hair, “I can teach you,” she offers, “if you’d like.”

He closes his eyes and smiles a bit, “I’d love to.”

“Great,” Taki beams and pats the ground next to her, “Come here beside me so you can see better. Unless you want to nap all day?”

“No, no,” Natsume sits next to her, “Show me?”

“Of course,” Taki says, “So first—“

And slowly, Natsume learns to make his first flower crown. It’s a bit sloppy and he feels a bit strange wearing it, but it’s alright, because he’s with a friend.

* * *

**blue**.

He’s cold.

Frost curls soft over the school’s windows even though it’s the middle of the day, wind racing through tree tops and whistling in his ears.

“You’re shivering,” Tanuma notes, blinking a bit as they walk out of school. He looks like he could blend right into the snow with his powder blue scarf and puffy white coat.

“It’s not so bad,” Natsume answers, readjusting his jacket and squinting at the new boots Touko-san and Shigeru-san bought him last week. “My feet are warm.”

“What about the rest of you?” Tanuma asks, disgruntled, and he takes off his gloves.

“I’m fine—“

Tanuma takes Natsume’s hands in his, still frowning. His hand is warm as he tucks his gloves in his coat pocket. “Your hands are freezing.”

“They’re fine.”

Tanuma presses the back of his fingers against Natsume’s cheek, “Your face is cold, too.”

“I’m fine.”

Tanuma sighs, “You don’t have to be.”

“I am, though.”

Tanuma shakes his head, “What are we going to do with you? Do you want my gloves?”

“No, thank you,” Natsume pulls his hands back, “I’m perfectly fine with the cold, honest.”

“You always say you’re fine,” Tanuma grumbles. He pulls off his scarf and wraps it around Natsume’s neck, “Here, at least take this.”

Natsume begins to unravel it, “That’s really unnecessary, you don’t need to—“

“It’s the scarf or the gloves,” Tanuma says sternly.

Natsume pulls the scarf up to his nose and tries not to visibly melt into the warmth. “Thank you,” he mumbles, knowing that Tanuma won’t let this drop otherwise.

“No problem,” Tanuma says.

And Natsume is warm.

* * *

 **purple**.

“You shouldn’t have,” are the first words out of Takashi’s mouth when he catches sight of the yukata Shigeru bought for him, eggplant purple with lavender flowers stitched into the hems. “It’s—it’s gorgeous, Shigeru-san. Wouldn’t it—wouldn’t it have been expensive?”

“Not particularly,” Shigeru shakes his head, “No more than my own and Touko’s.”

“But that’s—“

“How much anyone would pay for their child’s yukata,” Shigeru cuts Takashi off, raising his eyebrows, “Don’t you agree?”

“I—“ Takashi traces his fingers along the hems, almost reverently, as though it’s more than just a simple piece of cloth. “—Thank you, Shigeru-san.”

“None of that,” he says, “Just Shigeru.”

Takashi surprises him with the hug, face buried in the crook of Shigeru’s neck, his touch delicate as though he expects for Shigeru to pull away any moment, “Thank you,” he repeats, a soft whisper.

“It’s no problem,” Shigeru answers, holding Takashi tight, “Really.”

And it isn’t. As Takashi goes out to play with his friends at the festival that night, fireflies glowing overhead as he ambles down the stalls with Touko, all he feels is pride and contentment.


End file.
